The Mask She Wears

In the realm of whispered tales, a drama spins,
Of a wife who weaves deceit with practiced grins.
Beneath her charm, a shadow lurks, unseen,
A web of lies, a fractured, twisted scheme.

Her husband, true, a loyal heart he bears,
Yet she, with cunning, sows discord and tears.
To friends, she paints a picture, dark and cold,
A tale of woe, with truths expertly stowed.

She whispers falsehoods, spins her web of lies,
Her husband’s honor tarnished by her cries.
She plays the victim, casting him as foe,
While innocence, his weary heart must show.

Her friends, ensnared within her tangled net,
Believe her tales, with sympathy beset.
They scorn the husband, blind to his dismay,
As shadows lengthen, truth begins to sway.

But in the quiet hours, when lies abate,
Her conscience stirs, burdened by the weight.
For in her heart, truth can’t be clasped,
A cheating wife, her facade unmasked.

Yet still she spins tales, with practiced art,
A fragile web, to shield her heart.
But lies, like shadows, cannot long hide,
And truth, relentless, will not be denied.

So let her weave tales, her falsehoods spun,
But know, in darkness, the things she’s done.
For light will pierce the dark of night,
And truth will triumph, casting lies to flight.